


Only Human

by Extreme_BowTie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Grieving, M/M, Mizumono Spoilers, Song Lyrics, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extreme_BowTie/pseuds/Extreme_BowTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's thoughts and motivations through out Mizumono. Mentions of romantic feelings between Will and Hannibal. Sad but necessary violence, betrayal, and death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> Song Lyrics from 'Only Human' by Christina Perri.   
> Characters belong to NBC's Hannibal. 
> 
> This is my first Hannibal fanfic. I was inspired due to frustration over the loss of any hope for a real murder family. This is my interpretation of how the last episode really was in Will's mind.

**I can hold my breath. I can bite my tongue. I can stay awake for days if that's what you want. Be your number one.**

It was for the job. All of it. The killing, the eating, the sweat soaked terrified hours gasping in the darkness. It was all so he could catch him. That's what he told himself with every step, with every bite. That is what he beat into his heart when ever he looked into the other's deceptively flat eyes.

"It's to stop him. It's to kill him" he yelled to himself.

“It's to save him,” a voice inside whispered as the fork slipped another piece of meat between his teeth and he spent another night shaking in the dark.

**I can fake a smile. I can force a laugh. I can dance and play the part if that's what you ask. Give you all I am.**

“It's not real Jack. It's an act,” he assured the frowning agent.

“An act? It's a damn good one then,” Jack said quietly, looking down at the papers on his desk, as though he believed it.

“I'm a good fisherman Jack,” Will offered, trying just as hard to believe it too. But in the corner of his mind doubt was blooming black and clinging. He couldn't be okay with it, couldn't accept the murder. It didn't matter that his time with the doctor was the one time in his life that he felt real, felt raw and open. It didn't matter that those times he smiled for Hannibal were only convincing because they were the only ones he didn't have to fake.

He couldn't accept this Beast, couldn't give in to the one thing that made him feel alive.

**I can do it. I can do it. I can do it!**

He hadn't known what he intended to do when he hung up on Alana or when he'd dialed Hannibal's number. It wasn't until he heard the other man's cultured purr that he saw the truth of himself. He could look past all of it, the blood and darkness and fear, past all of the ugliness and see. He could see Hannibal.

“They know,” he murmured, urgency soaking through. His heart was pounding and he was out the door and unlocking his car before the call even ended. He could see Hannibal and he'd be damned if anyone would be allowed to take that from him.

**But I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down. I'm only human and I crash and I break down.**

He sped the entire way, blowing through tolls despite the cameras and daring a patrol man to pull him over. Hannibal had said they could leave and run. He'd been blinded before; convinced he had no choice but to be Will Graham, the instrument of Jack Crawford's justice. He could see now that he wasn't that man any longer. He was just as Hannibal had said, a new creature that no one, not even Will himself, knew the true nature of.

**Your words in my head, your knives in my heart. You build me up then I fall apart, cause I'm only human.**

He'd had it worked out when he pulled up outside of Hannibal's house. Jack would be angry, but when wasn't he angry. He'd keep hunting them, but wouldn't get any closer. Alana would be hurt, but a part of him wanted that, the rest of him knew she'd get past it and that no matter her own pain she wouldn't let anything happen to his dogs. He and Hannibal could go anywhere and between the two of them no one would even know they existed. He'd eat every bite that Hannibal put in front of him and Hannibal would choose only the most terrible of the rude, the one's no one should miss, to grace his table because that is how much they meant to each other.

Then he'd seen her, Alana, a shivering mess on the concrete, drowning in blood and rain and fear. Reality crashed over his head as he dropped to his knees beside her. He called the EMT's mechanically, some part of him still hoping to save her and find a way for he and Hannibal to get away. Then she gasped out what he knew would be the last words he ever heard from her.

“Jack's inside.”

**I can turn it on. Be a good machine. I can hold the weight of worlds if that's what you need. Be your everything.**

If Alana saw him draw the gun, she would think she knew the reason, protection from the devil inside. But when he drew the gun and went inside the house, he'd gone in ready to give away his soul and make sure Jack Crawford never got out of there alive. He wasn't prepared to find Abigail or the Hell her living ghost would bring.

**I can do it. I can do it. I'll get through it!**

His mind was on fire again and he wondered if his fever had ever really gone away. He'd turned, gun at his side, and looked at Hannibal. He was bloodied and in pain. Will couldn't understand how he had lost control so quickly. Abigail was dead, Alana was supposed to be at home, Jack wasn't supposed to be there for another hour, and Hannibal . . . . .

“You were supposed to leave,” Will whispered, as he tried to understand the storm raging in the other man's eyes. He could see the anger and betrayal and knew Hannibal had seen through his lies. He had to explain, had to make Hannibal understand what he understood.

“We couldn't leave without you,” the doctor whispered back, one worn hand reaching out to cup his face.

Will relaxed. Hannibal had waited for him, had used his powers to bring Abigail back to him. He had time to tell him, to explain. He opened his mouth to let the words pour out of him, apologies and pleading and promises, as Hannibal pulled him into a gentle embrace.

**But I'm only human and I bleed when I fall down. I'm only human. I crash and I break down. Your words in my head, knives in my heart. You build me up and then I fall apart. Cause I'm only human.**

He cried out in surprise first, then in grief. Pain came last after Hannibal's words, “And you wanted to surprise me too.” He didn't understand and he couldn't see the creature Will was now, not like Will could see him.

**Just a little human.**

He crashed to the floor, looking up into the face of a jealous and angry god. But even a god can be convinced to forgive if one pleads in earnest penitence. He waited, holding his insides together as Hannibal's anger washed over him. He couldn't deny the man that. An attempt to reverse a betrayal doesn't ease the sting of the betrayal to begin with. He waited patiently even as his life slipped away, he would set it right and explain when Hannibal's anger had cooled enough for him to listen.

**I can take so much. Till I've had enough.**

“I've forgiven you Will, but can you forgive me?”

Will wanted to scream to him 'Yes! Yes! Anything,' but he'd turned away and looked at Abigail. What little blood he still had in him turned cold. “No!” The cry for him to wait stuck in his throat. His explanations and apologies rushing too quickly, getting confused with the urge to tell Abigail to run and to scream that Hannibal wasn't a god he was a damn fool. Confusion reduced him to incomprehensible begging.

Then there was warm blood splattering his face. The sacrificial blood of innocent Abigail demanded as payment to a god who was not only jealous and angry but spoiled, petty, and grieving.

**I'm only human**

The creature that knelt at his side as he desperately clung to Abigail, pressing against the gushing wound in her throat for the second time, the creature that whispered gentle words filled with hidden poison and shed a tear for him was not Hannibal the man or the god. It was a creature with no soul and no heart, a creature that had shed those vulnerabilities and gutted them as he had gutted what he had hoped to call his family.

Will was left alone, Abigail gasping at his side. One arm weakly held together his spilling organs. He was beyond fear and grief and pain. He could see the stag gasping for breath an arm's length away and he knew with stark clarity that he was dead, even as his heart continued to sluggishly struggle on, even if it continued on for one hundred years.

Will Graham was dead.

May he rest in peace.


End file.
